flowers bloom through the cracks in the ceiling
by prouvaires
Summary: -this is wonderful as loving goes.- LunaRolf


**Disclaimer:** Don't own. Don't sue.

**Rating: **T

**Pairing: **LunaRolf

**A/N**: For Bree-utiful, never-ending nights with you, FollowThisRhythm and EllieWritingInCrayon. Because they are all avid supporters of LucyLorcan and LilyLysander and I felt the need to write a oneshot about the Scamander twins' parents while trawling through their profiles. Also, of course, because they are all stupendous authors.

But this is mostly for them because they all believe in the magic of impossible things, and I treasure them for it.

* * *

They were kind of like joined at the hip, right? And everyone just assumed they would be another happy war romance with a happy-ever-after and their generic 2.8 children and perfect little home and spend all their Christmases with their bestest friends.

But then he married Hannah Abbott, and it was a little out-of-the-blue but so what? She never made it obvious that he was _important _in that special way, so it's not like it was his fault.

Besides, he doesn't even believe in Crumple-Horned Snorkacks.

And she watched Hannah walk down the aisle in that (_ohso_inappropriate) white dress because he'd asked her to be a bridesmaid and she'd said yes because, after all, if she'd said no it would be like admitting that she felt there was something wrong about all this. And there's not. There's absolutely not.

So she'd run out of the reception because they'd been dancing together and looking at each other in the way she looks at him and she doesn't see what right Hannah had to see that behind his bumpkinness there's a heart of gold and a man (boy) so fiercely loyal he would die for her.

She'd been wandering in the garden and it had been pouring with rain and she hadn't even noticed because what does it matter if it's stormy when your heart is breaking?

"Are you okay?" the voice had stopped her in her tracks, and she'd turned in the peach dress she hated to see a dark-haired man with heart-stopping blue eyes watching her with concern.

"No," she'd said, because after all she's Luna and she's nothing if not blunt. "I wish he was marrying me instead."

And then, just like that, he'd wrapped his arms around her and soothed her and she'd found herself sobbing (which was weird because she didn't think she was that upset) and two weeks later she's out on a date with him.

He's leaning against a fancy muggle car, black and shiny, and she pulls her wrap tighter around her shoulders and smiles brightly up at him, her radish earrings swinging wildly in the light from the streetlamp.

"Good evening," he tells her, and he smiles at her like she's lit up his whole world just by _being_.

"Hello," she replies, bounding down the stairs and gracefully accepting his hand into the car. His hand lingers around hers, and then he tenderly tucks her neon tie-dye dress into the car so he doesn't shut the door on it and closes her in, crossing round to his side hurriedly.

He takes her to a fancy muggle restaurant and he doesn't even blink when she tells him that she thinks he ought to go and update his grandfather's book and add in Nargles, at the very least.

"Nargles?" he says. She explains quickly, grinning with delight as he nods seriously and jots notes on the napkin by his plate. He tucks it gently into his pocket, and as he looks up at her and flashes her a special, private smile, she suddenly is breathing just a little faster.

They chatter pleasantly during the main course, and she listens to him talk about his days at Hogwarts – Ravenclaw, three years above her – and she draws on a faint memory of a towering seventh-year telling her off for breaking curfew. She tells him this, and he laughs and reaches over to take her hand.

"I must make a confession," he says intimately, smiling _that _smile at her again. "I only told you off because I wanted you to notice me. With your hair and your smile … you were so different. I wanted to get to know you so badly, even just as a friend, but you didn't even seem to see me. You looked not exactly at me, but kind of _through_ me, you know? And nothing I did could ever get your attention before I left."

She tilts her head to the side and makes a confession of her own. "I did see you," she murmurs, squeezing his fingers gently. "But you had your tall friends and they scared me."

He chuckles, and reaches out, his finger gently twisting one of her earrings. His eyes flash to meet hers, sparkling with something sort of like adoration, and she reckons that's the moment she falls in love with him.

* * *

She tells him so three weeks later, when they're out walking in the countryside on the off chance of seeing an animal she's interested in, and the sunshine is spilling from the sky almost as brightly as the sunshine that spills from her soul. He crouches down by a stream and his hair falls into his face and she leans over and brushes it _ohso_tenderly away, and then his hands slide round to the back of her neck and their lips are meeting like children kissing for the first time.

She sighs very gently against his lips, like her world is falling into place, and he can't help pulling her so close she is crushed against him, and they are touching down every inch of their bodies.

"You're beautiful," he tells her when he can drag himself away. She blinks at him because, _god_, nobody's ever told her that before. "Seriously," he murmurs, and kisses her again.

"I love you," she says firmly, her fingers fisting in his hair because everybody she ever said that to has run away. They haven't done it immediately because, hell, they wouldn't want to hurt her feelings now, would they? He rises, and she doesn't mean to let the gasp escape.

He reaches down to her straight away, holding his hand out for her to hold on to, and she seizes it like she needs it to keep breathing.

"Hey, what's the matter?" he asks with sincere concern, drawing her in close and tucking her head into his chest with one big hand, his hand tracing crop circles on her skull. She listens to his heart beating and splays one delicate palm over his chest, letting her breathing slow.

"Don't leave me," she says, and he just pulls her closer.

"How can you think that's even _possible _for me?" he inquires, his hands now firmly anchored in her long hair, and she tilts her head back, resting her chin against his chest, frowning slightly because he needs to _understand _this.

"Because everyone always does," she explains carefully. "And I'd like you to stay."

He suddenly pulls his hands from her hair and wraps big arms around her waist, a wrestler lifting a fairy, and twirls her round in circles above his head, holding her like porcelain.

She's dizzy with spinning and laughing when he lets her slide down the front of his body, setting her gently down on her feet again and feeling that strange sort of completeness as her lips seek his and meet them, giving that little sigh again.

And then they settle down in the long grass and she laughs as she tries to teach him to make daisy chains because his big hands are so delicate when they take notes on the strange creatures he finds but he tears daisies like paper hearts and is almost bursting with frustration until she takes the one she's made and drapes it over his head so he is Dionysus, but wearing flowers and drunk on her instead of wine.

He gives up eventually and wanders round the field pulling up wildflowers while she continues threading daisies, and he pauses for a moment at the edge of the grass to just _look _at her, and she laughs as some small creature scurries across her foot, the sound like silver and bubbles, and he thinks that this moment is the one his whole life has been leading up to.

And then he returns to her, his arms full of flowers giving off a heady scent, and with nimble, naturalist's fingers he weaves them together the way his grandfather showed him and with a flourish drapes the garland around her neck, pressing a chaste kiss to her cheek.

"I love you too," he tells her, and she smiles up at him with those huge silvery eyes and blinks blissfully.

"I know."

They are young and perfect and they are in love, and he thinks if it wasn't for that afternoon in the sunshine daisy field he could not have ever been happier than the day she reaches slowly for his hand while they are out walking and swallows and makes him stop.

He reaches for her, his hand sliding along her cheek caressingly, knotting in her long hair, tangled from where they have shoved their way through bushes and trees, and she shifts the battered dress that now resembles a bomb-victim's outfit and presses her hand against his heart in that way she has that means there is something important that she needs to tell him.

"What is it, love?"

She smiles slightly, and her head falls just a little to the side.

"I saw Neville today," she says, and Rolf cannot help the bitter wave of jealousy that almost brings him crashing to his knees. She digs her nails into his chest to help him focus, and he centres himself.

"And?"

"And I felt nothing!" she announces, looking inordinately proud of herself. "He was there with Hannah and she was telling him off about something and he looked so miserable and I just felt _sorry _for him." She moves her other hand up to trace his bottom lip. "I'm yours. I mean, I've known that for a long time, but I confirmed it today."

So he just replies with "marry me," and she looks like she can't decide whether to laugh or scream or cry so he pulls out the ring he has been carrying round for eighteen months, waiting for the _exact _right moment, and slides it onto her finger.

She looks up at him and the diamonds in her eyes shine more brightly than the ones on her ring and she rockets into his arms, clinging so tightly it's like she's trying to fold her very bones to lie against his.

"Oh, Rolf," she whispers in a very small voice. "I have never been so happy in all my life."

And his arms wrap around her because – and this is stupid, okay? – when she's in his arms he feels absolutely _safe _and _invincible_.

* * *

Three months later they are married. It's a small service. His old and decrepit grandfather comes to be a witness, and Rolf is surprised because his grandfather had always been adamant that no girl would be good enough for him.

But Luna walks through the doors and down the aisle wearing a long white dress based off a statue of the Greek goddess Athena she saw once, with a golden, radish-festooned diadem on her long fair hair and her special glasses on because she especially doesn't want today to be spoiled by Wrackspurts, and Rolf's grandfather smiles.

She's beautiful.

Harry and Ginny and Ron and Hermione are their other witnesses, plus an old friend of Rolf's from school, and then they kiss and they are bound together and they spend their honeymoon in the forests in New Zealand and she teaches him how to see Karadella Shadows and how to avoid Nargles and he teaches her to not be afraid of heights and to just _love _like this, forever.

* * *

They return after months they have lost track of and they find their friends surrounded by toddlers and Rolf is feeling just a little twinge of disappointment when they are in a muggle pub one night, leaning comfortably against each other in a booth as they pick at chips, children laughing and chattering and screaming all around them; and then she says, "Oh, by the way, I'm pregnant. Pass the salt?"

And then he cries just a bit and buys the whole place a drink and he thinks that this, without a doubt, is the best night of his life.

And then they found out it is twins, and that is the best night of his life.

They discuss names while she is in the hospital, writhing with labour pains, and he is glass-eyed with guilt because _he _has done this to her, he has caused his beautiful, carefree Luna to scream and pant and beg for release from the agony, and there is nothing he can do but grow angry with the healers and hold her hand and let her abuse him until there is one moment of absolute silence between her agonised cry and the squalling of a newborn baby.

They hand the baby to him as she begins the struggle again, her pretty hair plastered to her exhausted face as she turns between pains to see the baby he is holding.

"A boy," he whispers, because he is so overwrought with love for this tiny little person he cannot speak any louder.

"Lorcan," she tells him firmly, and then her head turns and her eyes fix on some distant point and she tenses again. He shifts the newly-named Lorcan into his left arm so he can capture her hand with his right.

"Look at me, Luna," he says as she fights the shuddering agony. "You're beautiful. We have a beautiful little boy, and we'll have another one any second. You're so beautiful, I love you so much."

They're both crying when little Lysander arrives, and it is all Rolf can do to pull himself together and go outside to announce the news to the friends and family gathered in the waiting room. Ginny dumps her son James into Harry's arms, pushing eagerly past Rolf to find her friend, and Rolf carefully helps the heavily-pregnant Angelina Weasley up from the chair, Lorcan bawling unhappily in the crook of his other arm, and the woman coos over the baby as Rolf leads her to where Luna is lying, Lysander feeding greedily.

"I do hope mine are girls," Angelina says softly as they halt in the doorway, watching Ginny fuss over Luna. "Then they can grow up together."

Rolf gives her a quick, reserved smile, and then crosses back over to Luna. He presses a kiss to her exhausted forehead and she smiles radiantly up at him.

"I'm so happy," she murmurs to him while Ginny rocks Lysander, babbling nonsense at him, and Angelina awkwardly soothes the still-wailing Lorcan. He is overcome, and she laughs as she puts her arms around his broad shoulders and pulls him down so his face is buried in the crook of her neck, his arms wrapping around her still-swollen waist as though he is afraid she will fade away.

"I don't even have words," he says, his voice muffled by her hair. She hears him anyway: she is so finely-tuned to him that she could hear him across an ocean and through a hurricane. "There are no words for the way I feel right now. Words are just words and … to tell you how I feel would be bringing it down to a level that language can comprehend – and what I feel is far more than that."

She chuckles and runs her hands through his hair like she did that afternoon with the daisies and the wildflowers and he falls in love with her for the nine-hundred-thousand and forty-fifth time.

"I love you," she says, and he reaches up and kisses her.

"You are everything."

And she looks at him with that sparkle and he knows what she is going to say before she says it, so he opens his mouth and his voice meshes with hers.

"I know."

And then their children are being handed back to them because James is fussing outside and Harry might be able to battle Voldemort but he absolutely can't deal with his own son crying, and George is beckoning to Angelina, saying something about delivering the news to mum, and Rolf and Luna just retreat into their bubble of serenity and joy.

They are complete within each other. They are a better couple than any of the "wartime romances" could ever hope to be because they have never had to prove that they will fight for each other. She knows, and he knows, that each will fight for the other until the last breath leaves their body and the wrackspurts steal their souls.

Because for now they are forever.

* * *

**A/N:** Please don't favourite without leaving a review, thanks!


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